A Little R&R
by TereseLucy384
Summary: Sweet little short with Skipper and Gilligan taking a much-needed break, and enjoying some tropical relaxation, water-play and conversation


The crew and passengers of the S.S. Minnow had been shipwrecked for three days, now. They had worked endless hours building shelters and organizing supplies. Skipper and Gilligan had done everything they could to keep their passengers fed and comfortable.

This particular afternoon, Skipper watched his exhausted first mate, who was coming into the clearing with an armload of firewood, and realized that they boy needed a break. He watched as Gilligan dropped the firewood next to their pit, and crouched down to stack it neatly. The boy was covered in dirt and grime, and had trickles of sweat coming down the side of his face from under his hat.

"Hey, Little Buddy," he said, "You've been working really hard keeping our passengers comfortable, and I appreciate it."

Gilligan looked back at him and grinned, "Thanks, Skipper. I'm done collecting firewood. I figure, I'll head down to the lagoon and try and catch some fish for dinner."

Skipper thought about it for a minute. "Say, why don't you throw your swim trunks on and take a swim first. Enjoy a little break. You deserve it."

"You mean it? That's a great idea, Skipper . . . Why don't you come for a swim, too. You haven't had a minute to yourself since we got on this island."

The more Jonas Grumby thought about it, the more he liked the idea. In fact, he was positively giddy. "You're absolutely right, Little Buddy. Come on, let's go for a swim together."

The two sailors went into their section of the hut and, drawing the curtain, put on swimming trunks. Gilligan rummaged through his duffle bag to find a couple of towels, and also came across his Frisbee that he had bought in Waikiki. Reaching over, he tapped Skipper's arm with the Frisbee and raised his eyebrows. Skipper laughed and nodded. Throwing his arm around Gilligan's shoulders, they sauntered out of the hut and headed towards the lagoon.

Upon reaching the little sandy beach, Gilligan threw their towels over a low-hanging branch of a small banyan tree. He went running, hooting and hollering, into the water. Skipper laughed at Gilligan's enthusiasm, and followed at a slower pace.

Gilligan looked back over his shoulder and, seeing Skipper already in the water, flung the Frisbee towards him. Skipper reached easily for the throw and caught it on his fingertips. Skipper tossed it wide, sending Gilligan lunging through the water, and laughing when his buddy came up empty-handed.

The sun was warm, and the tropical breeze was refreshing, carrying the scent of wild flowers across the beach. They spent a leisurely hour in the water, tossing the Frisbee and laughing at each other's wild catches and near misses. After a while, though, they discarded the flying disk and just enjoyed swimming and basking in the warm water.

"Hey, Skipper," asked the young man, with a pensive expression, "What do you think of our passengers? They're all so different, aren't they?"

"How do you mean, Little Buddy?"

"Well, look at the Howells," he answered. "They're used to fancy parties and tuxes and limousines. But, they've been real nice to me, though. Mrs. Howell keeps calling me 'Dear boy'", he grinned. "And Mr. Howell gave me a $2.00 tip for bringing him a drink of pineapple juice and not telling Mrs. Howell that he spiked it."

At that, both of them laughed.

"Can you believe we're shipwrecked with Ginger Grant – a real movie star! I mean, she's used to parties and limousines, too, but I bet her parties aren't like the Howell's parties."

Skipper chuckled at this. "I think you're right there, Little Buddy."

"And then, there's Professor. He sure is smart, isn't he, Skipper. I don't think I've ever met anyone so smart. He sure uses lots of big words, too. Most of the time, I don't even know what he's talking about. I just nod a lot. Do you think he notices?" Skipper chuckled, as the first mate tread water for a few minutes, thinking about all the people together on this island.

Skipper watched him and grinned. "You haven't mentioned our last passenger, yet, Gilligan." He teased. "What have you been thinking about her?" He was very curious, indeed, to see what his young friend made of the pretty, little farm girl. He expected to see Gilligan blush.

"Oh, she's the most interesting of all, Skipper," he answered innocently. "Poor MaryAnn lost her parents and had to go live with her aunt and uncle and a bunch of cousins. Did you know that? She told me about it last night, while I helped her clean up after supper. I can't even imagine what that must have been like. I'll bet it was real scary. She was just a little girl." He frowned, thinking about what the girl must have felt, showing up at her aunt and uncle's house to live.

Gilligan was quiet for a few minutes. Skipper took the opportunity to enjoy the silence. It wasn't often that there was silence when Gilligan was in the vicinity.

"Skipper?" Gilligan said, interrupting the Captain's tropical daydream.

"Hmmmmmmm," Skipper acknowledged, while floating in the water with his eyes closed.

"I sure do miss pizza." Gilligan said, wistfully.

"Gilligan, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk about food." Skipper's stomach rumbled at the thought of a big, juicy steak.

"And ice cream. What's your favorite kind of ice cream, Skipper?"

Skipper opened one eye and glared at his first mate. He was about to berate him for continuing the food-induced conversation, but the look of innocence on Gilligan's face stopped him. He sighed.

"I guess, I'd go with Coffee. Although, I remember one day, our destroyer was docked up in Puget Sound, and some buddies joined me on a little foray into Seattle. We stopped at this little ice cream shop on our way back to the base, and I got a cone with orange pineapple ice cream. Boy, that was good." Skipper smiled, to remember that sunny day in Washington, and the good friends he was with.

Gilligan watched him smiling, and couldn't help smiling, too. "I usually get vanilla. But sometimes, when I'm home, I'll go with maple walnut. There's a place on Hanson Street that makes their own ice cream, and they have a great maple walnut."

At the thought of home, Gilligan felt his throat closing up a little, and blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the tears that were suddenly forming.

"Skipper," he sighed. The change in his voice made Skipper look up at him. He didn't like the disheartened look in the boy's eyes.

"What's the matter, Little Buddy?" Skipper asked, gently.

"Do you really think they'll find us? We haven't seen _any_ planes go over. We drifted real far."

The pleading in Gilligan's voice caught him off guard. In his typical fashion, he countered the unexpected emotion with a spout of gruffness.

"Gilligan, they're going to find us and we'll be going home before you know it. Now, you'd better believe me, and that's an order," he shouted.

"Yes, Sir," Gilligan agreed, while saluting. The motion from his arm splashed Skipper, who softened again, when he looked at Gilligan, and realized that the boy was just scared.

Skipper grinned and splashed him back, and then picked Gilligan up and threw him, screaming, out farther into the lagoon. Gilligan came up sputtering and laughing and attacked his big buddy with wild splashes, his gangly arms spinning like a pinwheel.

Skipper tried to grab hold of Gilligan to give him a good dunking, but the wiry lad was squirming and wiggling out of every hand-hold, giggling madly. Finally, Skipper maneuvered him into a full-nelson. In an attempt to swing him sideways and under, they both went down.

Gilligan took the opportunity to swim away and run up onto the beach, where he fell on the sand, laughing. Skipper followed him out and pulled the towels off the tree branch and tossed one to Gilligan.

"Alright, Little Buddy, this has been fun, but it's time to get back to work."

"Yes, sir," Gilligan answered. "It sure was nice, though, taking a break," he said, with a grin. As they dried off a bit and threw their towels over their shoulders, they started walking back through the jungle towards their little clearing.

Gilligan stopped and looked back at the lagoon, then glanced around at their surroundings.

"You know, Skipper," he said, thoughtfully, "This is a good place. We're pretty lucky we landed here, aren't we."

Skipper looked at the young man and gave him a pat on the back. "We sure are, Little Buddy. We sure are."


End file.
